pops him right in the ass, between the cheeks. And the fucking bullet rattles around inside him, doesn’t hit anything vital, and lodges in his shoulder. Is that amazing or what?”
He winces, thinking about it. “I don’t know whether to call him lucky or not.”
“Oh, he was lucky. Hey, what’s with the sunglasses?”
“Patient gave them to me. I told him I was going down to Costa Rica on vacation.”
Klein takes a closer look at the Ray-Bans, which are dangling from Cogan’s neck, attached by a Croakie.
“Not bad,” he says. “You going with anybody?”
“Carolyn.”
“A little bonus action, huh?”
“Separate rooms. Just friends.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.”
“She can’t date a former client for six months.”
“What happened to her guy?”
“Got the boot. Seems he’s been a little too preoccupied these days with his business.”
“And suddenly you’re Mr. Attentive?”
“Let’s just say that I have a newfound appreciation for the people who were there for me in my hour of darkness. And that appreciation is manifesting itself in different ways. One happens to be attentiveness. She’s a good woman. I want to give her a chance.”
“I see,” Klein says, not taking the assertion as seriously as he should. “Teddy C., version 2.0. Must be a popular download.”
“It helps that it’s free.”
“You slut.”
Klein takes a bite out of his cinnamon-raisin bagel. Cogan waits for him to finish chewing, then says, “I’ve got something for you.”
“Cool. What?”
He puts Carrie’s clear, generic CD-R case down on the table in front of him. The case doesn’t have a label, so Klein can see the disc inside. She labeled it Knife Music II with a black Sharpie.
“This is from Carrie, Kristen’s friend.”
“You saw her?”
“No, but she sent me a little care package and this was in it.”
“That’s kind of creepy. Kristen made a mix for you, didn’t she? It was pretty good if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, it was. And this one’s good, too. But that’s not the most interesting thing. There was something else in the package.”
He puts the journal down on the table next to the CD-R. Monet’s water lilies adorn the cover of the hardbound notebook. A little yellow Post-it, inserted at about the midway point of the notebook, is sticking out of the top.
“Is that what I think it is?” Klein asks, a hint of edginess in his voice.
He nods. “Kristen’s diary. Open to the page the Post-it is attached to.”
“Why?”
“Just open it.”
He does as he’s told.
“Now I want you to read to me starting from the second-to-last paragraph on the page.”
“What’s this about, Ted?”
“Read it, Klein.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he lowers his voice and says, “The full weight of a man on top of me isn’t something I’d ever really felt before. A grown man. It was something. I didn’t feel pinned, though. Or claustrophobic. He was tender. He kept kissing me on my neck and then on my boobs. I felt his boner on my leg. I kept waiting for it to come but he took his time, which is good, I suppose. But as each minute passed, I got more nervous. And then, like that, I felt it—”
Klein looks up at him, a pained expression on his face. “Ted, this isn’t cool. People can hear.” He glances around, seeming to hope someone might come to his aid. But the place is practically empty.
“Don’t worry. Keep going.”
Again, Klein takes a moment before continuing. “It wasn’t as painful as I thought, but it was definitely like a sharp jab,” he reads, his voice wavering. “He went slowly at first and then he was pumping harder and I could feel him going deep inside me and it hurt but I did my best to relax and find the joy in it because that’s how I wanted to remember it. It’s funny how when you’re doing something—you know, doing something real important—you actually end up projecting yourself into the future and thinking back on something while you’re still there. But it kind of crystallizes the moment. I remember his warm breath on my neck. He was breathing hard, but he wasn’t looking at me. He kept grunting. I wasn’t sure what I should be doing. So I said, ‘Fuck me. Fuck me like you mean it,’ because I’d once seen a woman do that in a movie. And that got him grunting more, which I thought was a good thing. Then I heard him whisper in my ear, ‘I’m going to count down from ten and when I get to one I’m going to come.’ And then he started counting. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”
Klein stops at seven and looks up at him.
“There are only two guys I’ve ever told about that,” Cogan says. “You and Reinhart. I think it was at this very table that I told you. I believe you were talking about the lack of sex you and your wife were having and I suggested a way for you to spice things up a bit.”
“Look, I don’t—”
“And when I read that you know what I thought? I thought the Rhino weighs a good seventy-five to eighty pounds more than I do. But you and me, Kleiny, we’re about the same weight and have the same tenor of voice. And well, you have more gray hair, but in the dark, that’s pretty hard to notice.”
Klein doesn’t say anything. He’s now looking down at the diary, his lower lip quivering.
“Why, Klein? You were my best friend.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t fucking know she was sixteen years old, that’s why. I thought she was older.”
“I don’t understand. What’s that got to do with anything?”
Klein looks at him beseechingly. He doesn’t want to explain, but he knows he has to.
“Tell me, Klein.”
“OK, don’t shout. It was a mistake. I made a mistake. It was stupid. After being out with you guys that night for my birthday, I came home and Trish was asleep. Typical. So I called you and I heard that you had women there. And I thought it was the usual types you hang out with. I didn’t know. I thought you had two there and shit, it was my birthday, my wife was goddamn passed out, so I got in my car and went over. When I got to your place, the lights were off. I went around through the side gate to the backyard like I sometimes do and the sliding-glass door was open a crack. I went into the house, and then I saw that there was someone in the guest room. And I sat down at the edge of the bed. And when I did, she woke up and took my hand. She took my hand and put it under the covers. And she was naked. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
He’s crying now.
“And you had intercourse with her?”
Klein doesn’t answer. He’s blubbering.
“Tell me,” he says.
“I did. I fucked her. You won’t tell Trish, will you?”
“Jesus, Klein.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“I don’t get it. You were going to just stand by and watch me lose my career and possibly get convicted of rape and manslaughter. What did I do to you to deserve that? What?”
“Nothing,” Klein says. “You were just you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Klein wipes his nose.
“I’ve always envied you, man.”
“For what? For the women?”
“Sure, there were the women,” Klein says. “But it wasn’t just that. There’s an effortlessness to you, man. You’re good-looking, people like you, and you’re always on your game—and people respond to that. They want to be around that. I wanted to be around that. But sometimes, you know, I would start to hate you for having those qualities because I knew I didn’t have them. And then I would hate myself for hating you because you were my best friend.”
“Fuck, Klein. It’s one thing to be jealous and another to let my life go down the toilet. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”
“I know, Ted. But I couldn’t have handled it. I had a wife. I had kids. You were single. I knew you could handle it. I knew you could get off. And look, you’re better for it. You’re a better man.”
“Better, yes, but more forgiving, no.”
“Please don’t tell Trish. I’ll make it up to you.”
“How, Klein?”
“I’ll figure out a way. I will.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” he says. And with that, he gets up and takes both the CD and diary and puts them in his bag. He gives Klein a napkin to wipe his face.
“It’s over, right?” Klein asks.
He doesn’t answer. He just takes a moment to stare at him in utter disdain. Then he turns his back on him and walks away.
“Ted,” he hears Klein call after him pleadingly. “Ted. Tell me it’s over.”
“For him,” says Madden as he enters the room and moves toward Klein, holding a pair of handcuffs. He’d been standing just outside the cafeteria, listening to their whole conversation through an earpiece.
“Unfortunately for you, Doctor, it’s just beginning.”